


All The Neighbors Know Your Name

by DivinusQualia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Appropriate! Stiles, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Closet Exibitionist, Cute, Hide it from the Sheriff, Loud Sex, M/M, Nosy Neighbors, Sexy, Short, Tulips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivinusQualia/pseuds/DivinusQualia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles’ neighbor, an 80 year old woman watering her flowers, winks at Derek and greets him by name, Derek is not very happy. Stiles is hesitant to explain, but eventually, he has to tell why the neighbors know his partner’s name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Neighbors Know Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had an idea, inspired by a post on tumblr (the short at the beginning).  
> Also, this is un-Beta'd. :) And PLEASE leave a comment, I love feedback.

I want you to

slowly crawl between

my legs

and then

speak your tongue into

me until

all of the

neighbors know your name

* * *

 

The blue-haired lady who lives next door to Stiles in his shabby condo usually ignores Derek and reproachfully watches him like he might steal her petunias or tulips or _whatever_ the fuck she’s growing in her front window flower pots (Derek likes to think she grows the weed inside). _Usually_ ignores is what’s important here, because today, the blue-haired old lady makes direct eye contact while watering her petunias/tulips/perhaps they’re hydrangeas (seriously, Derek knows nothing about flowers) and smiles.

“Hello, Derek.” This causes him to forget which foot is forward and how to walk simultaneously, resulting in flailing limbs and one ashamed werewolf ass on the pavement.

“Oh, dear! Are you alright?” She offers a frail hand in pink floral gardening gloves, and Derek’s face burns. This woman doesn’t even know the half of it, if Stiles had seen he’d be laughing his ass off and making awful jokes about werewolf athleticism. He clears his throat and tries to maintain some dignity while accepting a hand up from a lady who’s definitely at least 3 times older than him-and fucking human.

“Yea-Yes, thank you. I like your gloves.” The lady beams.

“Why, thank you! Genim gave them to me when he moved in. Said he hoped we’d be good neighbors.” Derek’s eyebrows jump.

“Genim?” Derek knows Stiles doesn't normally go around boasting his name to strangers.  
  
“Yes. I didn’t approve of the nickname he introduced himself with. Stiles-what nonsense, Genim is a perfectly respectable name.” (Derek’s sure Stiles’ high school classmates wouldn’t agree). She gives him an appraising look, and Derek resists the urge to slouch-it’s like his grandmother come to visit all over again-and she makes a sound that sounds like approval.

“Derek, though. That’s a fine, strong name... Very masculine. It suits you.” Then she winks. Obvious and conspiratorial, the woman winks like she knows something and Derek’s just glad he’s standing still because he’s not sure he has enough luck to prevent Stiles seeing his impression of a flabbergasted goose a second time.

“I’m sorry, ma’am?” The lady turns back to her flowers, untucks her pruning shears from her front pocket.

“It’s Mrs. Allingsdon, dear. And I have something for that lovely boyfriend of yours.” Derek can feel the tips of his ears turning red as the lady-Mrs. Allingsdon continues to clip at the flowers. When she turns back to him, she has a bouquet of red.

“Oh, um, thank you... Mrs. Allingsdon. I love the...” Derek’s face kind of twists as he accepts them.

“They’re tulips, dear. I’ve tied them together with a bit of twine.”

“Oh, they’re so... red.”

“Tulips have wonderful meaning. And Genim and I share an appreciation for the color, among other things.” Derek switches the tulips to his left hand.

“Wait, what else do you appre-”

“Nice speaking to you today, Derek. I expect you to greet me when you visit Genim from now on?” Mrs. Allingsdon pauses at her door, her brow raised just so, the pruning shears almost threateningly hanging from her fingers.

“I... Of course, Mrs. Allingsdon. Have a good evening.”

“I’d wish you the same Derek, but I already know it’ll be good.” She winks again and slips into her house (Derek suspects it’s so he can’t see the weed, because the woman is obviously on something). Derek finally makes it to Stiles’ door.

 

Stiles throws the door open, the smell of lasagne drifting to Derek, and he smiles.

“Hey, sourwolf, already upset? What hap-” Derek shoves the tulips forward.

“Mrs. Allingsdon saw me today. Had a conversation with me. _Called me by name_.” Stiles breathes in the tulips.

“Of course Mrs. Allingsdon sent tulips. I hope I’m as sassy as her when I’m 80.” Derek growls as Stiles continues to ignore his irritation, placing the tulips in a vase he pulls from the kitchen (Derek notes it’s less of a vase and more of a tall glass).

“Stiles!” Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Calm down, wolfy, dinner's almost ready. I didn’t realize you were this hungry. Want to make the salad?”

“ _Stiles_.” Derek let’s his eyes flash Alpha red. “ _Why the fuck_ does your 80 year old neighbor know my name?” Stiles awkwardly pauses in the kitchen, and Derek can smell the nervous electricity radiating off his pale, mole-spotted skin.

“Wow, you know I love it when you talk dirty to me." Derek let's his eyes flash again, let's his claws out. "Well, she, uh... She found out.”

“And _how the fuck_ did she _find out_? Did you _tell her_? She seemed to know you really well, _Genim_!” Stiles begins to wring his hands, flush creeping up his neck and blooming on his face.

“Um... I... _Technically_ -” Derek reminds himself to calm down, he doesn’t want to have to buy Stiles another shitty table from Ikea. He focuses on retracting his claws but lets his fangs peek out.

“Dammit Stiles, no one can know! They’ll tell your Dad and I thought you didn’t want to mention this to him yet.” Stiles has officially gone pink and his whiskey eyes keep darting over to the _fucking red tulips_.

“Well, um... You know what you did last week?”

“Yeah?” The tips of Derek’s ears go pink but he keeps his snarl in his voice.

“Yeah, I, like, really enjoyed it remember?” Derek stares blankly (Honestly, Derek’s trying not to think about how Stiles _looked_ last week, enjoying himself-a boner is never good to have in an argument). Stiles sighes-exasperated and embarrassed.

“ How I _loudly_ enjoyed it?” Derek snarls at that, his eyes glow. His fucking claws pierce the shitty Ikea table.

“ _Fuck_.”

“Wow. Now where are we going to eat?” Derek's a little too far gone to care and he pulls his wolf back, relishing the scent of Stiles’ excitement.

“I could eat off of you. Then _devour you_.” When he caresses Stiles’ face he let’s enough sharp claw touch the fragile skin to elicit a spike of arousal.

“One, that’s not as sexy as you think it is because I made lasagne. Two, um, that’s kind of what got us into this mess.” Derek growls and pulls back.

“ _What?_ ”

“Yeah, um, last week... When you... With your... And I... Yeah, um, I made some noise, remember? Ah, Mrs. Allingsdon heard, along wi-”

“ ** _What_ _?_** ”

“Yeah, see, um... She said she didn’t mind... We, uh-this is kind of gross-we remind her of the good old days.”

“ ** _The good old days?!”_**   Derek's really regretting touching the lady’s hand, even if it was glove covered.

“She said-” Stiles frantically tries to continue.

“But she didn’t complain?”

“Um, no. No one else complained ei-”

“ _More people heard?!_ ” Derek kind of torn between human embarrassment and wolfish pride.

“But they didn’t complain!” Stiles flails his hands around quickly.

“They didn’t?” Derek's gaze focuses on Stiles' pulse, his razor sharp eye sight picking up the slight rising of hairs of Stiles' neck as he heats up with scent of sex.

“No.” The instant Stiles realizes the look in Derek’s eyes have changed from disbelief to pure lust and desire, the wolf already has him halfway to his room. He’s sniffing along Stiles’ neck, supporting him with one arm while the other works at Stiles’ jeans. He moans into Stiles' buzzcut.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you have no idea how _hot_ that is.” Stiles resist the urge to pant and rut against Derek’s hand.

“Um, I think I’m getting an idea...”

“How many people said some thing?” Stiles’s head is getting fuzzy when Derek lowers him onto his bed and pulls his shirt off.

“Um... Seventeen? Nineteen?” Derek’s still almost painfully fully-clothed and he continues to work at getting Stiles naked.

“How many people in the building?”

“Tw-twenty three.” The wolf can’t resist howling in pride. Other’s have heard how happy he makes his mate, how pleasing he can be. Stiles squirms under him as he’s subjected to Derek’s too fucking gentle treatment. “J- _Jesus_ , I think you’re a closet exibitionist.”

“Just shut up Stiles.” Derek has to smirk as he dips his head to lick at Stiles’ collarbone. And when the pale younger man beneath him shudders and cants his hips up, he cannot resist nipping at his ear and whispering.

 

“Or don’t.”

  
(Stiles is fucking done.)

**Author's Note:**

> LOL Tulips mean "declaration of love" to florists...


End file.
